


Fidelity

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: Even the rulers of dust town's Carta just want to unwind sometimes.





	Fidelity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt on dragonage_kink on dreamwidth.](https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/93926.html?thread=366216678#cmt366216678)

“What a fucking mess.” Beraht tosses his armour over the back of a chair and I know exactly how he feels. Three sodding days it's taken us to sort this out so far and no doubt there will still be work to do later. Nobles are fucking hypocritical arses and if there was a way to still get rich without doing business with them I'd take it. Unfortunately, they're the one with the coin. We want to try and keep dust town fed, we have to do whatever it takes.

“We caught the fence, he didn't have any knowledge of the operation. Had to kill him though, he knew too much.” Beraht says as he peels his shirt off and toes open a chest to hunt for another. 

“And the thief?” A growl is my only answer as he pulls a new tunic on. That answers that question all too well as he takes to pacing around the chamber and I pull my legs up onto the bed to avoid being knocked into.

“Went to the surface if I've got a guess. Already sent instructions out to keep an eye out to any of our surface agents.” Another turn and stalk across the room and his hands are clenching rhythmically. He needs to burn off some of his anger or we'll get nothing done tomorrow, not with everybody doing the dust town equivalent of ducking and praying to the stone that they're not dragged out from where they've holed up to avoid him.

“C'mere.” I put my work aside and bend over the edge of the bed, rummaging around in the chest beside it. 

I can hear the footsteps stop, then turn my direction. “What you thinking love?” He asks as he runs a hand through my hair as I try to decide. He needs to relax and focus, get his mind off worrying...

“Go grab a bottle of Death.” I tell him and he snorts at the name I gave my failed brew. Well, sort of failed, it's definitely alcohol so I did succeed in my aim. It's just so strong and tastes foul that even the hardiest of souls won't touch it, does make a good cleaner though, nothing can survive being doused in that stuff. By the time he returns I've dumped his entire selection of knives on the edge of the bed.

“Are you sure?” I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer, just staring at him with one eyebrow raised until he gets the hint. He nods quickly and starts setting things out on the lid of the chest, he's really out of sorts if he's asking that. He knows I don't make an offer unless I mean it.

“Strip, unless you want to lose more clothing.” That's a tempting offer, but I can't be bothered with the hassle of sneaking past the guard into the commons to get new things, so stripping it is. I'm glad I built the fire up not too long ago, he laughs at me, but I get cold easily. I toss my tunic and trousers over his head, I'll deal with them later.

For all the anger I can still see in him given how tense he is, he's remarkable gentle as he ties a strip of silk over my eyes and pushes me down, a warm, rough hand smoothing hair away from my face as I settle. 

I breath. Focus on it because otherwise I'd forget. Anticipation melded with fear makes me want to hold my breath, listen for every sound, every movement. And that's a futile gesture - he can be as silent as I am, nothing to betray his movements, nothing to let me know what he's planning, or where he is.

I barely suppress my jump at the rasp of steel over a whetstone beside me, slow methodical grinding and his low chuckle. Stone, is it possible to love somebody and hate them at the same time? I draw another breath in, trying not to show anything, I know I've failed when he dances his fingers across my arm and I twitch away from the contact, only working out that it was flesh on flesh after I've moved.

I gasp at the sudden weight pressing down, a solid hand on my chest, fingers splayed and just touching my neck, a reminder of how easy it would be for him to shift his grip. I whimper at the touch of a blade below his hand, the pressure a cold line that drags across my skin. There's no pain when the cold abates and I huff out a breath. Fuck. I hadn't even heard him switch blades to one of the blunt ones.

I can feel my body relaxing at the touch of the steel, a solid touch that I want to press into but know better then to try. It makes the sudden sting so much more painful than I know it is, a sharp edge running so lightly that I can barely feel it and only his weight stops me twitching. He chuckles, clearly pleased with himself and I huff.

Every time I tell myself to relax, to trust him and yet it's impossible to do. There's something so primal, so in built to someone who fights for their life every day, that makes relaxing when there's bared steel so close by a futile attempt. Not knowing what he has in hand, what he might do with it, I can't help but crave it. And fear it.

Each mark is a new threat, not knowing whether to pull away or to press into the touch, it's a power I know he revels in, knowing he has such control over me, in a way he never can over the Carta because there's always something or someone pushing back, fighting him. I can feel him relaxing in the contact as he presses my limbs down, holding me still. I'm not bound but I can't move, his will holding me as surely as any rope or chains as he works.

“You have no idea how you look right now love.” His voice is low, a rumbling purr as he leans in and I press upwards into his mouth as he traces over a cut I can only barely feel. “So pretty, all mine.”

“Yours.” I agree, because I am. I always have been ever since we met. He's the only thing worth fighting for in this shit hole we live in.

The bed dips as he pulls himself up and settles over my hips, pinning me down, not quite where I wanted him and I growl into his mouth as he leans in to silence my protest. “Ah, ah, ah, good things come to those who wait.” His words are breathy, whispered near my ear and I smirk, he's not as in control as he'd like to me, maybe he just needs some more... Incentive.

“And pain comes to those who take too long.” I counter with a smile.

He laughs as he moves my wandering hands off his thighs and back onto the bed. “Impatient tonight are you love?”

I won't dignify that with an answer, it should be clear enough. He drags his fingers over another welt before leaning down to kiss along it. Moves onto another. And another. And, “Beraht! If you don't fuck me right now I'll stick one of your own knives in you!” 

“That's not very polite.” He admonishes as he sits up and I let him manoeuvre me, shifting my legs around and unless he wants me to go ahead with my threat, apply himself in the requested manner.

“Nor is leaving... Oh fuck. Yes!” Stone yes. My breath is loud, panting in the sudden silence as he lets his weight sink onto me, pushing my legs against my chest and I grip the bedding unable to do anything at all except curse him to fucking move as my world has just narrowed down to one thing.

“Leaving?” He asks, as if he's not also having to fight the urge to stay so sodding still.

I have no idea what I was going to say. “Not important any more.” I bite out. “For the love of our ancestors move.”

I am glad that he's too impatient tonight to draw things out - I mean, I do love him when he's being gently and all that but tonight isn't feeling like one of those times. It's a good thing sound doesn't travel well through stone, or perhaps a pity. Any man should be jealous of the sounds he's managing to wring out of me. Some variant of 'fuck, yes, harder, you sodding duster, stop treating me like I'm a noble and fuck me'. With repeats. And sounds that aren't even words.

His fingers tighten, digging in deep enough I know I'll bruise as he finds his release and he's polite enough to not collapse onto me, though that might be due to the time I put a knee in his groin to get him to move so I could breath. He growls, tugging me against my chest as I simultaneously push the blindfold off and stretch out to make a grab for a blanket. If he falls asleep before I grab it I'll be stuck.

“Love you.” He mutters as I manage to snag the end of the blanket before his arm tightens round me.

“Yeah, love you too, even if you are an utter ass.” I'm not sure he even hears me, his breathing already starting to even out as I use what little freedom I have left to toss some of the blanket over him so he doesn't wake up freezing cold once the fire has died down to embers. Irritating dwarf.

I don't know what I'd do without him though.


End file.
